Clark Confronts His Creators
by SuperBear
Summary: Thrown into another dimension where he is a character on a TV show, Clark Kent airs his grievances with the writers and producers of the show. Can he get back home? Note: producers presented here are fictionalized.


"Yeah, that was something, losing all my memories like that. But in a way, it was like a huge burden was lifted from me."

As he spoke, Clark Kent lightly rapped his knuckles against the main counter of the Talon coffee shop.

Lana Lang, manager and part owner of the Talon, was working in the back room behind the counter.

"Kind of like that time Eric Summers had all those powers," Lana said from behind the door. "I remember. It was like the weight of the world was lifted off your shoulders."

"Uh, yeah," Clark said. "Kind of like that." He did some more gentle rapping. "I talked to Chloe. About when I went to see Lex. She didn't seem to know what Lex and I talked about."

Still behind the door, Lana called out. "With Lex, who knows?"

Clark started thinking about how he had seen Lex at the farm. Lex claimed he had simply told Clark about his own memory loss. But something did not feel right to Clark.

"Lana, I gotta go," Clark said. "I'll see you later."

"'Bye," Lana said.

As Clark left the Talon, he thought how it was good he was being open with Lana. At least as much as he could.

As he passed by the alley next to the Talon, Clark heard a loud clatter. When he went to investigate, he found nothing out of place. No sign of any people. No one fleeing. Nothing.

"Hmm," Clark said.

When he emerged from the alley, he noticed something unusual: men carrying long boards into the Talon and women walking around talking on little headsets.

Was the Talon suddenly gearing up for some catered event? Clark wondered. When he was there just a moment ago, the Talon was empty.

"Now that we're in season ten," one man said, "we may not need the Talon set much. But we've got this portable set just in case."

A woman with a headset nodded. "There's talk of destroying it all later."

Clark watched the men and women go into the Talon.

What was going on here?

When he walked back in to the Talon, Clark found more unusual things. There were what appeared to be customers, lots of them, but they were all having makeup applied by other people. One woman was even giving them instructions on what to talk about.

As the two men with long boards put them down in front of the counter, Clark approached them.

"Hey, guys, what's going on? Is the Talon having some kind of weird party?"

"No," the taller of the two men said, looking a little confused. "Just some slight modifications to the set, Tom."

Tom? Clark thought. Set? "Um," he said. "Is Lana here?"

The other less-tall man wore a baseball cap and had a salt-and-pepper beard. Frowning slightly, he shook his head. "Haven't seen Kristin, Tom."

Clark frowned. "Does Lex know what's going on here?"

"Haven't seen Michael either."

The taller man was clean-cut with dark hair and no gray. He chuckled. "Way to stay in character, Tom."

Before Clark could respond, he felt a hand slip into his arm. When he looked, he found a woman with golden-brown hair in a kind of Farrah Fawcett hairdo. She wore a light blue-green sleeveless dress and a slightly urgent look on her tan face.

"Tom, the producers need to see you," she said. "Ed and Mike just flew in. Kathy's running late."

"Can they explain what's going on?" Clark asked.

"Yes!" the woman insisted.

A wall of the Talon moved away, and bright light poured in. Once Clark's eyes adjusted, he saw a field filled with what looked like mobile homes and RV's. More men and women walked around with headsets.

As Clark staggered forward, he saw the strangest sight of all: the buildings in downtown Smallville were all facades, only fronts propped up by diagonal and horizontal pieces of wood, like some Old West movie set.

What was this? Was he suffering the effects of some new form of kryptonite? Could his powers even help him in this situation?

"Tom, let's go." The woman stood at the open door of a waiting limo.

Clark took one more look at the facades then he got into the limo with the woman.

Wherever he was going, he hoped he could get some answers.

As the limo pulled away, a man stood in front of the Talon. More correctly, he stood in front of the facade of the Talon.

The man was dressed like Rick Blaine in "Casablanca:" white coat, black pants, and black bow tie. He had sharp bushy eyebrows that were almost Vulcan, and he spoke through a smile that seemed somehow artificial.

"Smallville," the man said, addressing an audience only he could see. "A town of so many unusual events it could have its own TV series."

After a quick drag on a cigarette, which seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the man went on in slightly stilted fashion. "In fact, the town does have its own TV series. In another reality, Clark Kent is the main character on that series."

Holding the cigarette up in his right hand, he rested his elbow on the other hand. "Sometimes the barrier between universes breaks down. Just ask C.S. Lewis and the residents of Narnia. Thanks to another universal breakdown, the producers of 'Smallville' are about to clash with Clark Kent. Because like a certain girl named Alice, Clark Kent is about to go down the proverbial rabbit hole."

Even the man's laughter was stilted. "You know that saying, 'Prepare to meet your Maker?' Clark Kent is about to do just that. Because young Mister Kent has just entered... the Twilight Zone."

As the man stood there puffing on his cigarette, the men and woman in headsets stared.

"Who's that guy talking to?" one man asked. "And why is he in black and white?"

In a flurry of black and white television static, the man vanished. A quick flash of red followed.

The bearded man in the baseball cap blinked for a moment then looked around in confusion.

"What was I just doing?" he asked. After a quick shrug, he walked into the "Talon." Behind him, men and women in headsets moved back and forth, all of them chattering instructions.

No one heard the low sinister laugh or saw the three men in black suits move quickly across the set.

Words in big bold white letters briefly appeared in the sky. They read:

"Clark In The Twilight Zone:

Clark Confronts His Creators"

"Kathy is running late," the woman said. "But here's Tom."

As Clark stood inside, the woman closed the door to the office.

Clark quickly surveyed the situation. Four men sat at a conference table. Each man had a nameplate.

Jeff Larson was bald with glasses and resembled the minor character "the Cleaner" in "Toy Story 2." Or more like the old man in "Up," Clark decided.

Barry Peterman and Ed Gage looked alike. Both were men with dark hair. Ed wore a baseball cap.

Mike Miller looked like that actor. Clark couldn't remember his name but he was the evil rich husband in "Overboard," the dad in "Richie Rich" and the grandfather on "The Gilmore Girls."

"Hey, Tom," Mike said. "Even though Ed and I are no longer producers any more, we still wanted to discuss the general direction of the show."

"Yeah, Tom," Jeff said. "And you've had some good ideas in the past."

"So we wanted to get your input again," Peterman said.

"What ideas do you have, Tom?" Ed asked.

Clark made a face. "Why does everyone keep calling me 'Tom?' I'm Clark Kent."

The four men chuckled.

"Very good, Tom," Ed said.

"Way to stay in character," Mike said with a smile and a nod.

"Always the joker." Jeff laughed as he looked around at the others. "What an imp."

"You're dedicated to your craft," Peterman said.

A bewildered Clark looked around with a helpless look on his face.

"Does this have something to do with my recent memory loss?" Clark asked.

More light laughter from the men followed.

"Tom, that was the end of season four," Jeff said.

Peterman nodded. "We're working on season ten now. So let's get down to business, Tom."

"I am not Tom!" Clark shouted. To prove his point, he punched a hole in the wall.

The four men roared with laughter.

"That is your best practical joke yet, Tom," Mike said.

Clark punched four more holes in the wall.

At first, the men looked crestfallen then they looked slightly alarmed.

"That is a really elaborate practical joke," Ed said nervously.

The men all stared at Clark then at each other. When a woman's voice came on the speakerphone, they stared at the phone.

"Guys, I have Tom on line one."

A new voice followed. "Hey, guys. Yeah, it's me. I'm tied up in traffic. Who would think there'd be this much traffic in Vancouver? I'll be late."

After the click and a brief dial tone, the men stared at Clark.

Finally, Jeff spoke. "It could still be a practical joke."

"Yeah," Peterman said, "Just someone pretending to be Tom, doing his voice." He sounded a little frightened.

Clark lifted up the oak chair with Peterman in it so he could look directly into his face.

"I am not Tom," he said firmly then put the producer back down.

As Clark glared, the four men gaped.

"It's Clark," Ed whispered.

Mike nodded, his eyes all wide. "It is," he said.

They stared some more.

"Wow," Ed said. "This is so cool."

"Yeah," Mike said.

"It's amazing," Jeff said. Peterman sat in silence, his mouth wide open.

Clark frowned. "What's going on here?"

While Mike rubbed his chin nervously, Ed spoke with a hint of trepidation. "Well, Clark, I don't know how to tell you this but-"

"You're a character on a TV show," Mike blurted out.

"Way to be subtle," Ed hissed.

Clark made a face. "Is this a joke?"

Mike pointed to the other side of the room. When Clark looked, he saw a filing cabinet with papers stacked on top. Above all that was a poster. The poster featured the word "Smallville" in large block letters which were red and yellow with the illusion of 3-D. It was just like what Clark saw on milk bottles.

Above the word "Smallville" was a picture of Clark with Lana and Lex. They all looked quite serious. To Clark's annoyance, Lex was embracing Lana as she faced away from the serious-looking Clark.

Clark grabbed one of the stack of papers from the top of the filing cabinet. It was a script. "Smallville" was printed on the front page. As Clark flipped through it, he found a list of cast members. "Clark Kent:Tom Welling." "Lois Lane: Erica Durance." He found the names "Clark," "Lois," "Chloe," and "Tess" printed above lines of dialogue.

Looking absolutely stunned, Clark plopped down into a swivel chair.

"Sorry, Clark," Ed said.

"This must be quite a shock," Mike said.

After a long silence, in which Clark glared at the poster and all the men sat in uncomfortable silence, Clark finally spoke.

"A TV show?" he said angrily as he slammed the script down on the table. "Do you know the things you write actually happen to me?"

Clark sat there scowling and taking deep angry breaths.

"Call security," Peterman said.

"Oh, that'll help," Jeff sneered.

"Only if the Hulk is our security guard," Ed said.

"You think the Hulk could take on Clark?" Mike asked.

"Are you kidding? The Hulk would mop the floor with Clark," Ed said.

"No way," Mike said. "The Hulk is strong but he's dumb. Clark is strong and fast and he's got heat vision and he's smart. Smart-strong beats dumb-strong any day."

Ed thought for a moment and nodded. "Yeah. And Clark wouldn't have to hold back with someone like the Hulk." He glanced nervously at Clark. "I hope he holds back with us now."

"Guys?" Clark said. "Me. Here. Angry."

"Yeah, guys," Jeff said. "Could we stick to the main point?"

"Not the time, guys," Peterman muttered.

Mike and Ed were bug-eyed as Clark pointed an accusing finger at them. "You brought a meteor shower to Smallville. You killed Lana's parents. You killed Alicia!"

"We were only trying to entertain people," Ed said sheepishly.

"Entertain people?" Clark shouted. "The pain in my life is entertainment?" Clark waved his finger some more as he spoke through gritted teeth. "You ruined the lives of all those meteor freaks. And every time I was exposed to kryptonite and felt all that pain, that was you guys!"

"Clark," Mike said quietly. "We had no idea any of you were real. We just had these actors and actresses playing your family and friends."

"Yeah," Ed said. "They'd all pretend to be in pain for a while then we'd all go home."

"Even the ones playing the meteor freaks," Mike said.

"Besides," Ed said, "you don't know that we caused any of this. It could be this stuff just happens to you and we just sort of tune into it somehow."

Clark sighed in disgust, his arms crossed over his chest.

"But we aren't causing it," Ed said.

Mike grinned. "Yeah, but wouldn't it be cool if we were? We think stuff up and it actually happens."

"Yeah!" Ed gushed. "Like we're great big puppet masters. Oooo!" As Ed "ooo"-ed, his eyes did a merry little dance as he wiggled his fingers together like a mad scientist. "We are in control," he said in a voice much like that of Gollum in the "Lord of the Rings" movies.

"Guys?" Clark said. "Me again. Here. Angry. Still."

"Sorry, Clark," Ed said.

"You sound like the Hulk when you talk that way," Mike said with a slight titter. When Clark glared at him, Mike muttered to Ed. "Maybe Clark wouldn't beat the Hulk."

"You know," Jeff said, "there was an issue of 'The Brave and the Bold' with Batman and Sergeant Rock. These bad guys tried to take the comic book writer and artist hostage so they could control whatever Batman and Sergeant Rock did."

"I remember that issue, I think," Peterman said.

"How'd that turn out?" Ed asked.

Jeff leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Artist and writer both got away. And they made a way for Batman and Sergeant Rock to get out of their predicament."

"Guys?" Clark said. "Could we focus on me here?"

"Sorry, Clark." Mike sat up and leaned forward. "Look, Clark, even if we are controlling what you do, it isn't all our fault. Many years ago two guys created a comic book with you in it."

Clark frowned. "Why would I be in a comic book?"

Mike looked at Ed. "Should we tell him?" he whispered. Ed shook his head. "Well, you know, Clark. You have super-powers. So of course you'd be in a comic book."

"And you're from another planet," Ed offered.

Squinting slightly, Clark crossed to the other side of the room. "What are you guys not telling me?"

"Nothing," Mike said.

"We just don't want you to know too much about your future," Ed said. "Just in case."

"Just in case what?" Clark asked.

"It might change things," Ed said.

"And the world needs you," Mike said. "Your powers, your example. That's why those two guys created you. Siegel and Shuster."

For a few moments, Clark was silent then his eyes widened with realization. "Mayor Siegel. Shuster's Gorge. They're named after these comic book guys,"

"So you see it isn't all us," Mike said quietly.

"You could also blame the people at DC Comics," Jeff said.

"Maybe you should visit their offices," Peterman suggested meekly.

The invisible visitor in the room was able to see into Peterman's mind. Peterman was thinking about how in season nine there was a scene where Clark used his heat vision to burn down Zod's tower. Peterman had a horrible vision of Clark doing the same to the DC Comics building.

The invisible one continued silently observing. The time to intervene was approaching.

Clark plopped down in a swivel chair again. "Whether or not you guys are causing it, why do all these horrible things happen to me? Why do I have to go through all this?"

Ed shrugged. "It's probably just part of your development as a hero."

"The hero the world needs," Mike said.

"That's true," Jeff said then he chuckled. "It reminds me of a joke we had in the Army: Suffering builds character. And what does character prepare you for? More suffering."

While the four men chuckled, Clark visibly sulked.

"Maybe this will help," Peterman said. "There was a novel by Dean Koontz called 'Lightning.'"

"Oh, yeah," Mike said. "I read that."

"The time-traveling Nazi," Ed said.

"Right. Only he was a good guy," Peterman said. "And there was this girl. He'd always show up at crucial moments in her life. She kind of expected him to save her."

"Sort of like Lana and Clark," Mike said. Light laughter.

As Clark visibly fumed, the others sat back to hear Peterman tell the story. "So the girl is being attacked by this man. When she realizes her time-traveling hero isn't showing up, she fights back. Later she asks the time traveler why he didn't show up to help her. He says he knew she'd be all right."

"Because he would go into the future and read news articles about her," Ed said.

"Exactly right," Peterman said. "And he tells her that it was important for her to stand on her own two feet."

Peterman turned to face the still-sulking Clark. "It's the same for you, Clark."

Jeff nodded. "All this helps you grow and develop as a hero."

Still scowling, Clark crossed his arms. "Even assuming I can find my way back home, how am I supposed to go on now that I know all this?"

"Good question." Ed looked around the table at the others. "Guys, any thoughts on how we can get Clark out of this mess?"

"Amnesia is good," Peterman said.

Mike nodded. "We use amnesia a lot on the show." Brightening, Mike pointed a finger. "Hey! What if some guys from like the Men in Black show up and wipe out his memory?"

"Yeah," Ed said. "With their memory-wipe devices they have."

"Neuralyzers," Peterman said. "They're called neuralyzers. I think."

"Only," Mike said, "instead of being like the Men in Black who work only on Earth, these guys go anywhere. Any planet. Any time period."

"And wipe out people's memories," Peterman said.

"Yeah, good," from Ed.

Jeff frowned. "Aren't we running into copyright infringement with that?"

Peterman shrugged. "Here it doesn't matter. Besides, we can always change the names, disguise the characters a little."

Jeff considered then nodded. "Okay," he said. "That takes care of Clark's memory. How do we get him back home?"

They all thought for a moment. Then Peterman lit up.

"What about someone like Q?" he said. "You know. From 'Star Trek: The Next Generation.'"

"Oh, yeah," Mike said. "The guy who goes around altering people's molecules, changing their form. Almost like magic."

"He can visit all kinds of places in all kinds of time periods. But for some reason he's always bothering Captain Picard." Ed chuckled. "He's a good character to use, though, since he can go anywhere, any time. Just like our new Men in Black."

"We'll call them the Cosmic Men in Black," Peterman said. "Or the Cosmic Caretakers, the Cosmic Guardians. The Cosmic Something."

"Yes, something like that," Mike said. "And these Cosmic Whatever are working with Q. It's a special case. A special emergency."

Jeff nodded. "Someone like him would be powerful enough to get Clark back home."

"Perfect," Mike said.

"Yeah, good," Ed said. "What else?"

Silence followed.

A long silence.

When Clark looked, he saw all four men frozen in place.

"Guys?" Clark said.

No reply. He reached over and waved his hand in front of Peterman's eyes. No reaction.

Glancing around cautiously, Clark slowly rose.

"Hello, Mister Kent," someone said.

Clark whirled. A very tall man stood there. He wore a black suit, black tie, and black shades. Behind him, in similar attire, were two men. Each man had a face that was half-white, half-black. But with the colors on opposite sides. All three men stood with hands clasped in front of them, like Secret Service agents quietly observing a situation.

"Who are you?" Clark asked.

"You can call me Agent Q."

Clark clenched his fists. "Did you bring me here?"

"Far from it, Mister Kent." Q sounded slightly bored as he explained. "Imagine an entire race of powerful beings with the ability to manipulate time and space. Let's call them the Q. It might be hard to comprehend. Even though you are, in your own minor way, advanced."

"Thanks," Clark muttered. "Now what's going on here?"

"Some of the Q went rogue." As Q glanced around the room, he seemed more bored than cautious. "They manipulated you and tricked you into visiting this place. Not a difficult feat. Kryptonians aren't much more advanced than Earth people."

Clark made a face. "Why? Why bring me here?"

Q removed his shades. "It was an attempt to discourage you, anger you, neutralize you, One Q even mocked the situation by impersonating Rod Serling." Q snorted. "In front of the Talon set." He shook his head and sighed. "As he popped up all over the set, we had to run around all over wiping out the memories of the easily confused and frightened little humanoids."

As the two men nodded cordially, Clark stared at the three strange visitors.

Q put away his sunglasses, still not making direct eye contact with Clark. "In your own way, Kent, you have a part to play in the big scheme of things. You may be even more important than Captain Picard. That doesn't take much, of course."

Q quickly surveyed the room. "What happened here was almost a complete disaster. Maybe not as bad as the anomaly that nearly destroyed all humankind. But still very bad."

Q produced a metal wand with a red band near the top.

Clark stepped back, holding out an open palm. "What is that? Is there red kryptonite in there?"

"No, Mister Kent." Rolling his eyes slightly, Q held both hands up, the wand pointing off to the side. One had to be so careful with these humanoid creatures, even Kryptonian ones. So fragile. "As you know from your own recent memory loss, ignorance can be bliss. As if you humanoids aren't already ignorant enough." He tapped the wand. "This, Mister Kent, will return you to a state of bliss."

After he considered this for a moment, Clark relaxed his posture. "Do it," he said.

"Of course, Mister Kent." Q carefully adjusted dials on the back of the wand then pointed it at Clark. "One more thing, Mister Kent: it is very important you find those Stones of Power."

A bright red flash followed.

Next thing he knew, Clark was outside the Talon. As he looked around at the familiar buildings of Smallville, Clark had the strange sense of...something.

What was I just thinking? Clark asked himself.

He had the weird sense something really awful had just happened. Or almost happened.

Maybe it was best he not remember.

Yes. Whatever it was, it could wait. It was urgent he find the Stones of Power.

The tall red-jacketed Clark Kent moved with great urgency along the main street of Smallville.

As he did, a voice spoke from another realm.

"Clark Kent of Smallville, Kansas. A young man very nearly derailed in his destiny. Clark Kent is now able to move on toward that destiny. Thus proving the old adage that ignorance is bliss. Our not-so-ordinary farmboy can carry on after a brief detour through...the Twilight Zone."

It was rare that Q was mirthful but in this case he laughed heartily. A pretty good Rod Serling impersonation, he thought. Take that, rogue Q!

Everything was back in order. For now.


End file.
